


The Second Son

by MissBMarie



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Raphatello, Turtlecest, tcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBMarie/pseuds/MissBMarie
Summary: “I am so sorry.” He said again, and Donatello knew the statement to be true....But the gleam of the metal band around his leftmost finger caught Don’s eye, and his heart sank.“I understand.” He heard himself say. And it wasn’t a lie.The world is split between different clans of human and anthropomorphic beings, and four young lords are attempting to bring terrapins back from the brink of extinction.





	1. Chapter One

Donatello would have preferred the cold, coarse parchment of a letter.

He would have preferred the disconnect it could’ve provided. The privacy. This distance. The chance for a more thought out response.

But Leonardo wouldn’t have done that. News such as this had to be delivered in person. Otherwise, he might have been thought cruel. And that certainly wasn’t the young highborns intent.

“I am so sorry.” He said again, and Donatello knew the statement to be true. Leonardo sat across from him, the other man’s hand wrapped firmly over his own. His fingers, which were coarse from years of gripping the hilt of a sword, slid their flat pads against Don’s knuckles. A gesture he thought to be comforting, Don imagined.

But the gleam of the metal band around his leftmost finger caught Don’s eye, and his heart sank.

“I understand.” He heard himself say. And it wasn’t a lie. He most certainly knew why Leonardo, the first son and lord of the Hamato terrapin clan, married that girl. Oroku Karai, daughter of Oroku Saki, leader of the Foot clan, an entirely human military faction.

Their marriage had been a political move. A union between the Hamato’s terrapin branch, and the human Foot clan. The first of its kind. Donatello thought of the hours he’d spent in the classroom, learning and memorizing every shred of history regarding the region’s clans and countrymen. He thought of how very soon, he’d be sitting down to put into words the significance of this marriage, being the first time the human race has extended an olive branch of this measure to any other clan.

The event was indisputably monumental.

So yes, Donatello understood that even though he’d been betrothed to Leonardo for the past 10 years, the importance of this union was of a much greater magnitude.

...

Still, he didn’t want to look at her, sitting there on Leonardo’s right, tiny little legs pressed together at the knees, her pretty dark hair falling over her pale human face. He didn’t want to, but courtesy bid it of him.

Politeness could be a formidable armor.  It was one Donatello wore often enough, and was most certainly adept in.  
  
And in any case, at this moment, it was better than looking at Leonardo.

“I am _so_ happy for you.” Donatello said, and the Lady Karai smiled so brightly, he felt he may very well be blinded by the genuinity of it. Besides, what else was there to say? No foul words or vengeful wishes would change what had transpired. Against his better judgement, he looked back to Leonardo. “I wish you many joyous blessings.” he told them, his tone even, surprising his own ears.

Leonardo’s lips pulled into a terribly handsome smile.

“Thank you.” he said.

“Donatello....” A hand fell upon his shoulder, and Donatello looked to his clan leader, Lady Tang Shen. He immediately resented the pity in her eyes. But not as much as his own brother’s fidgeting over her shoulder. When Leonardo had made his announcement regarding his recent nuptials, Michelangelo had audibly gasped before a bubbling mess of confusion spilled from his lips. As though he had more right to be offended than Donatello himself.  
  
“ _But you’re suppose to marry Donnie_.” His whiny little voice had rang for all the nobles of both clans to hear.  

Lady Shen had quickly silenced him. Still, embarrassing as it was to have Mikey voicing his own thoughts, he was privately glad someone had said it.

“This room grows stuffy and our company is certainly weary from travel.” Donatello announced, shifting up on his heels to stand. “Why not show them to the guests rooms, and prepare a meal in honor of this wonderful occasion-”

“There is one more matter of importance to discuss.” Lord Hamato Yoshi’s voice was never described as loud or overpowering, yet he could easily command the attention of a room. Donatello scooted back into his seat, waiting patiently for the aging rat to continue.

He gave pause, and folded his hands in front of him, a gesture which Leonardo pointedly mimicked.

“Yoshi?” Lady Shen implored. He met her eyes with a soft smile and a twitch of his whiskers.

“My lady,” he addressed, “Young Lords.” a nod to Donatello and Michelangelo, “Despite recent events, the Hamato clan has not forgotten the purpose behind the arrangement made over a decade ago. And we would seek to see it to fruition.” he said. Again, Michelangelo spoke out of turn.

“See what?” he blurted. Lady Shen held out a hand at him, a soft ‘ _shh_ ’ leaving her lips.

“Our goal in Lord Leonardo’s and Lord Donatello’s marriage was to unite the these meager terrapin clans. Though individually the Terrapin Hamato and Terrapin Tang clans have flourished in recent years, they would do moreso, together.”

It was an old speech. Recycled from 10 years ago. “This goal can still be met. For much like the Tang clan, the Hamato clan has a second terrapin son.” Lord Hamato held out a paw, directing to his right, to the young man who sat across from Michelangelo, the same way Leonardo sat across from Don. His eyes were cast downward, and he visibly stiffened when attention was brought to him.

Donatello knew him. Had known him as long as he’d known Leonardo. But in recent years, the boy had drifted into the background of Don’s mind. Lost in shadow of the Hamato’s first terrapin son, Leonardo.

He recalled many summers when they were young, and the Hamatos would come to visit. While Donatello would be busy entertaining his betrothed, Michelangelo had gotten into mischief more than once with the other second son.

“Lord Raphael...” The old rat said, and though Don knew his name, he felt as though he were hearing it again for the first time. “...is more than capable of filling the duties required of him.”

It was a bit of a lie. Don knew. This young man, Raphael, the second son and a lord of the Hamato terrapin clan, had a bit of a reputation. A great fighter, with a great temper. Something of a lone wolf. Excellent in battle, but often recalcitrant toward authority. Even his own brother’s.

“Unlike our prior arrangement, I would think it would be more suitable to head the house here, under Tang rule.” Lord Hamato said.

Don wasn’t sure the intent of that. Previously, the plan had been to resituate Donatello south, to live under the Hamato empire. To head this new, combined terrapin clan there. Was this gesture a mock apology for their broken engagement, or was it because of Lord Leonardo’s new wife, who would soon be occupying a great deal of the castle grounds herself?

Donatello imagined it was a bit of both.

“So you want one of us to marry Raphael instead?” Don could have died for his own brother’s big mouth. Did the boy have to verbalize every thought so very unceremoniously? He cast a glance at his dear brother, who withered under their lady’s berating stare.

They’d never intended for Mikey to be a clan leader. _They_ being Lady Shen, or Tang council. Innovative and talented as his brother was, Mikey had no mind, nor taste, for political temperaments. For delicate debate. And most importantly, for arduous circumstances.

He was no leader.

Don looked to the young man in question, Raphael. He had barely moved. His eyes were still cast down. His hands were fisted firmly at his thighs, his shoulders squared and pulled tight. He was a man quick to pounce. To punch first and ask questions later. Hot-headed and easy to bait.

He was no leader.

“We are greatly appreciative of your desire to see this union to fruition.” Don was speaking out of turn, but he knew Lady Shen would make no move to stop him. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d left him to make a large decision on his own. “And our wishes are the same. I would be happy to accept your offer in the name of the Tang terrapin clan.”

Mikey gasped again, but Donatello did not see it this time. Instead, he was quick to show his respect and bow his head. Though, perhaps it was not only out of respect, but to shield himself from the world, if only for a moment.

 

\--------------

 

The guests were shown to their rooms, preparations for dinner began, and Lady Shen dismissed herself, more than likely to explain these new events to the Tang council.

Despite Michelangelo’s persistent attempts to seek out his brother, Donatello had managed to evade him for awhile, running random errands that sent him back and forth over the keep’s grounds. Donatello had no doubt Mikey had already told the whole castle of this new development. Eventually though, he had to return to his workspace.

His own council, Ms April O’Neil waited for him there.

He was thankful she didn’t question him immediately. They worked in silence for many moments, teetering at their own individual work stations. Finally, April cleared her throat.

“Well,” She said, her voice light and feathery, ”My father will be pleased that my charge will not be traveling south, so that I might remain here as well.”

For a moment, Don gave pause, looking sharply over his shoulder at her. April stood with her arms crossed, leaned back against her desk with a smug little grin over her freckled skin.

 _Ah yes_ , Don recalled how cross her father had been a number of years ago, when Don had asked for April to join him when he finally moved south. She’d wanted to. Don was her charge, and April, Don’s council. It was practically expected of her. And in any case, beneath her studious nature, the girl was wildly adventurous. She’d desired travel.

“We may yet still, on occasion.” Don told her, “My lord will certainly wish to visit his familial home. It would be fitting for us to join him.”

“ _Hmm_.” Was April’s only reply as her blue eyes scanned over him, examining him with great scrutiny.

“I’m fine, April.” Don said quickly. Her well arched brow rose, and Don sighed, leaning back against his desk, his hands taking purchase on its edge. “It is a strange turn of events, yes, but it does not change the endgame.” He argued, “The goal was to unite the two terrapin clans. We’re still doing that.” April offered up a shrug.

“Yes, very true.” she said passively, “But tell me, why did you so readily agree to marry the second son?” Don could not shield the scoff that left his lips, and he felt no need to. He could be perfectly candid around April.

“ _So readily_?” He repeated, his hand gesturing of its own accord, “It was the circumstances presented to me. Should I have let Mikey take the reigns in lieu of myself? Over what, hurt feelings?”

“So it does bother you.” she said, stern, but soft. Don sighed, audibly voicing his agitation. His head bowed, and he heard the quiet clicking of April’s shoes on the ground and the swishing of her garbs as she approached. He felt her tiny human fingers on his jaw, and though she did not force him to meet her eyes, the touch beckoned it.

Don lifted his head.

“Neither of them are leaders.” he told her, “Not Michelangelo; nor Raphael. If this union is to be successfully, it needs an acceptable head.” April’s tiny nose scrunched on her face.

“Acceptable?” she said the word with disdain. “My lord, Leonardo is a fine leader, it is known, but the true loss would have been you. For certain.” She said with a smile. Don shook his head for his own humility, but returned the smile nonetheless.

“I am undeserving of you, Miss O’Neil.” he said. April nodded.

“This is true.”

 

\--------------

 

Mikey had found him, of course. It was inevitable.

“Aren’t you mad?” he demanded, all huffs and puffs as he paced around Don’s workspace. April paid little mind, focused on her own projects. Don, however, was having trouble tuning out his younger brother.

“What good would it do to be angry?” Don replied, refusing to look up as Mikey tsked and tossed his hands in the air.

“ _What good would it do_ ?” he repeated, “That doesn’t matter! That’s not the point! You have the **right** to be mad!” Don set down his tools with a little more force than he intended, his head shooting up.

“And I’m choosing not to be. That is also my right!” he said sternly. Mikey’s gaping mouth snapped shut, and his lower lip immediately pulled into a pout. Don sighed heavily, reaching up to push his microscope from his eyes and drag his palm over his face. “Please Mikey, don’t misunderstand. I appreciate your concern, but that does not change anything. Duties still need to be fulfilled.” he set down his project and made his way over to his brother, reaching out to grab the boy’s shoulders. He was still shorter than Don, but even just this past summer, Mikey had grown a great deal. “It is of little consequence in the grand scheme of things-”

“But you’ve spent 10 years getting to know Leonardo. You don’t know the first thing about Raph.”

…

This would not be the first time Donatello would dwell on Mikey’s astounding ability to easily pick out the one singular doubt in Donatello’s mind. Effortlessly plucking it from its deeply hidden roots. Don was ashamed he could still be surprised by this; his brothers incredible intuition.

Behind them, April’s hands ceased their movements, as she too waited for Donatello’s response.

But of course, he did not have one. That was the problem at hand, after all. He didn’t know a single thing about Hamato Raphael.

 

\--------------

 

“So uh, where do I sit?” Mikey piped in a hushed voice. Don shushed his brother, shooting him a reprimanding look. But truthfully, it was a valid question. The clan leaders would, of course, sit at their head table. Council members after them, then the tables were divided by house leaders.

When it was just them, it mattered little where they sat, as long and Donatello and Michelangelo sat at the head.

When they had guests, most commonly the Hamato clan, Don would normally sit at the far end, opposite Leonardo. Beside him would be Michelangelo, then April. Next to Leonardo would be Raphael, then Leonardo’s own council. He was a leporidae man called Miyamoto Usagi who, despite having other rabbit clans members here under Tang rule, dutifully remained at Leonardo’s side.

But the new additions and shift in titles would prove to be...confusing. Donatello and Michelangelo were still lords of the castle. They had to be at the head. Mikey was the second son, so he could fall to Don’s left. But Leonardo was no longer his betrothed, so it was not necessary for him to sit opposite Donatello. Perhaps, instead, Raphael…

But Leonardo was the first son, and now wed. That put his status above Raphael... and where did Karai fall?

Donatello watched as the Hamato troop made their way to the table, and his mind raced through the ladder of propriety. Perhaps as clan heads, he and Leonardo would still sit opposite one another…. But, Donatello wasn’t certain if he wanted that or not.

It seemed he had no more time to think on it though, as Leonardo’s hand already took hold of the head chair.

Well, that was it then-

“Raph.” Leonardo pulled the chair out, and gestured to his younger brother. Raphael faltered, brow dipping low on his head. Beside him, Karai made the same encouraging motion to the seat. But Raphael made quick work of objecting to the silent request.

“You are the first son and Lord Head of the Hamato Clan-”

“And you will be a Lord Head of the Tang House.” Leonardo’s voice rang pleasant, but the comment was made with an air of finality. Raphael was unfazed, and opened his mouth for another retort, but was abruptly cut off.

“Your brother is correct, Raphael, do as you are bid.” Hamato Yoshi said as he and Lady Shen passed by. Donatello quickly bowed his head in respect, as did the others. He felt Mikey shift beside him.

“Sooooo, I sit where?”

 

\-----

 

Donatello could only imagine what the other houses were thinking. Certainly the council members were now aware of the situation, but, unless Mikey’s mouth truly was as big as he proclaimed, plenty of houses had yet to hear the news. They more than likely were the subject of whispers at many other tables.

“How was your trip North, Lady Karai?” Donatello would spend many nights thanking the gods for such an astute council. April’s voice was prettily pleasant. Polite and poised.

“Colder than I anticipated.” Karai’s voice, however, was much softer. Feathery, if not a bit guarded. Donatello knew that female status among human clans often fell below the mens, for whatever strange reason. It wasn’t uncommon for their women to be quiet and reserved.

Donatello wondered if Leonardo preferred that type of disposition...

...then immediately reprimanded himself for the thought. Such reflections would do him little good now.

Once upon a time (no less than two days ago) Don spent a great deal of time and consideration toward Leonardo’s perceived likes and dislikes. Even when they were young, when the concepts of betrothal and marriage were new and unknown to him, Don sought to impress his to-be counterpart. Over the course of their engagement, time and time again, he’d made great efforts put his strongest abilities on display, while simultaneously enhancing upon the things he’d thought Leonardo to favor.

He’d even attempted at improving his own swordsmanship, despite his clear ineptitude for the katana.

Don’s heart sunk at the thought of so much wasted time.

“It’s probably a good thing you’ll be staying up North, Red, you’d burn to a crisp down South, what with that pale skin of yours.” Donatello was drawn out of his thoughts by the unfamiliar voice, and he leaned forward, glancing down the table. He laid eyes on a young human male, with dark unkempt hair and a smug grin over his lips. April had looked as though she meant to reply, and Donatello would later apologize for speaking over her, but-

“And who might you be?” he implored. He’d hadn’t even realized they’d had an additional guest at the table. He sat right beside April, and Donatello knew for certain he was no Tang Terrapin clan member or council. The young man grinned devilishly.

“ _Casey Jones_ .” he replied, though not _at all_ to Don, but directly at April as his thick brows wiggled suggestively. Later that evening, Michelangelo would relay to Don how his neck had audibly creaked and his brows rose high on his head.

“And _why_ , exactly are you at this table…. _Casey Jones_?” he implored, with clear implication of his displeasure. Donatello hadn’t expected a response from directly across from him. Raphael cleared his throat, just loud enough to call attention to himself,

“He’s my council.” The second son of the terrapin Hamato clan said in a low and hushed voice. Despite the tension that had wormed its way into the muscles of Don’s shoulders, his irritation momentarily relented as he observed Raphael. The young man didn’t make eye contact immediately, instead drawing his cup to his lips before casting his eyes Don’s way. Like a small, discrete barrier.

A voice in Don’s head said: ‘ _Him? That lug? A council? In what reality?_ ’

But Don knew better than to voice such things. Courtesy let the words fizzle off his tongue.

“Oh.” He said instead, nodding and straightening his spine. “Forgive my ignorance, if you please. Welcome to our dinner table, _Mr. Jones_.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.” the human replied, sliding an elbow across the flat, wood surface and turning his whole upper body toward April.

“That’s enough, Case.” Raphael snipped, though he did not bother looking at his... ‘ _council’_. Leonardo, however, did.

“Elbows off the table.” he directed. Mr. Jones paused for a long moment before doing as directed.

Don shivered inwardly at the terribly unbecoming display.

 

\----------

 

Raphael said little else during dinner.

Don took note of this.

 _‘Quiet’_ was not a character trait Don recalled him having. Was this silence due to their new titles pertaining to one another? It would be understandable.

But to be fair, he’d paid little attention to Raphael before now.

Even during this very meal, Don had been quite distracted with thoughts about duty and propriety. And Leonardo, if he were being honest. The only thoughts he’d spared for Raphael in the last few hours were certainly not ones that brought about pleasant connotations, through no fault of Raphael’s own.

Don was aware of all this, and yet still, he found making conversation quite troublesome. Impossible, even. Leonardo had always been easy to converse with. Even now, Donatello found himself leaning toward discussion with the older brother. As though nothing at all had changed. Dialogue with him was so natural. For several moments he’d be caught in Leo’s gravity. The fluidity of his words, and his kind, soft smile.

It would often take Karai’s still unfamiliar voice to ground him again. And he’d remember: ‘ _Oh yes. Things are different now_.’

“Can I refill that for you, my lord?” The server’s voice startled him, and Don jolted in his seat. Something that didn’t go missed by his brother.

“You alright?” Michelangelo asked, none-too-quietly. “You’ve been in a daze.” he said flatly. Don meant to reply, but across from them Raphael stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose.

“S’cuse me.” he said gruffly. Leonardo turned swiftly from his new wife, hand reaching out to catch his brother, but the young terrapin was already gone, halfway out the door.

“Is he unwell?” Karai asked in her soft, delicate tones. Leonardo didn’t reply, but Casey had propelled himself out of his seat in a rather uncouth manner. Donatello would have been relieved for April’s sake, had the young man not gone running after his charge like his feet were ablaze.

Leonardo sighed heavily and offered up a tight smile.

“Forgive me,” he dabbed his mouth with his napkin and moved to stand, “I’ll be gone but a moment.” he said, and smiled down at Karai, hand resting on her shoulder.

Donatello inadvertently shifted his eyes away. It was not a private gesture, that was certain. Still, he felt compelled not to look.

And despite that he yet had his own brother and council at the table, being left with lady Karai became awkward, quickly. On the other side of the table, Usagi cleared his throat,

“As always, Lord Donatello, the Tang Clan’s hospitality never ceases to impress.” He said as he neatly placed his utensils over his empty plate, “The meal was wonderful.” Donatello smiled gratefully. Beside him, Michelangelo began to chirp excitedly about the menu lineup, and his hand in its conception.

Normally, Donatello would have taken this opportunity to praise his younger brother’s skills and contributions. However, curiosity beckoned his eyes toward the corridor doors. He saw Leonardo’s back, straight and tall, his hand gesturing a pointed finger every so often. He saw _Casey Jones_ ’s side, eyebrows curved inward, terribly animated, clearly expressing his skepticism and agitation.

He saw Raphael. Still. Stiff. Frowning deeply. Glaring daggers at his older brother.

Don had at no point stopped to wonder how Raphael felt about all this. Had at no point been curious to his opinion on the matter. Certainly it affected him, that went without saying. Raphael was now expected to take up a mantle that was once his older brother’s. However, unlike Leonardo, he wouldn’t be ruling in his homeland, but rather sent here. And he’d be asked to step up to hold a higher position, as a Lord Head of a house, rather than a second son.

Was this change daunting enough to warrant this reaction from him?

Perhaps. Who knew what sort of plans he’d made for his life before this turn of events.

Don didn’t.

But, that was the duty of house lords, after all. As representatives of their clans and their people. If Donatello could step up to the plate (twice, mind you), certainly Raphael could manage to as well.

But …. maybe Raphael did have plans for himself. Dreams of his own. Or a lover even.

This marriage would cripple any and all of that. 

Don found himself feeling torn. On one side, he was irritated that Raphael would have the audacity to imply he was in any way inconvenienced by this marriage, seeing as it was his family that put this into motion. And seeing as Donatello had to be the one to set aside his pride and adapt to these changes.

But also, on the other hand, he could sympathize. Because he’d had plans. Plans for a life with Leonardo.

Couldn’t he and Raphael at least find a kindred in such parallel losses?  
  
“Excuse me.” he said as he rose from his seat. He faintly heard April call a soft ‘ _my lord?_ ’, but paid little mind. Michelangelo and Usagi could make plenty conversation of their own to keep them occupied.

As Donatello approached the small group of Hamato clan members, _Casey Jones_ was the first to take notice, and he promptly nudged Leonardo. The first son quickly turned in his direction.

“My lord.” he greeted. Courteous as it was, Leonardo was not as skilled in decorum as Donatello. The young man was hesitant to allow Don into the conversation, his voice as telling as his body language, which stood firmly to block out the greater portion of his brother behind him.

Donatello smiled, none-the-less.

“Is everything well?” he asked, tipping his head to look past Leonardo’s shoulder. Don was just realizing now, he’d grown a bit taller than the other man this past year…

“Yes, of course, everything is quite well.” Leonardo assured. Don saw the falsity in his eyes, but nodded anyway, accepting his answer. Leo opened his mouth to continue, no doubt to provide an excuse for each of their departures, but Donatello opted to interject.

“I was hoping to speak to Lord Raphael a moment.” he said, eyes casting briefly to the man behind him. Again, Leonardo showed reluctance, discrete as it was. “Or I suppose my future Lord Husband, I should say.”

That did it.

Leonardo quickly conceded, urging _Casey Jones_ to follow suit.

“Of course, Lord Donatello.” he said. Though he looked as though he wished to, he did not cast Raphael a glance as he exited. Donatello waited until the sound of their footsteps were lost amongst the noise of dining hall.

He turned fully to Raphael then, folding his hands in front of him, regarding him with a pleasant smile. However, the young man did not return it. In fact, his jaw was tightly clenched and he appeared stiff as a board.

This alarmed Donatello a bit. Lord Raphael was said to be a renowned fighter, his skills paralleled only by that of his brother’s.

Over the past few summers, Don had failed to take notice how significantly Raphael had grown since they’d met as children. The short, scrawny terrapin, always covered in bruises and bandages, was now a fierce thing to behold. Wide of stature and thick with muscle. His cheeks that were once full and cubby when he huffed and puffed, were now sharp and defined. His shoulders had broadened and his golden eyes became startlingly piercing.

Donatello put on his armor of courtesies.

“Forgive me, my lord, I did not wish to interrupt, but I saw little other chance to speak privately with you before the night’s end.” Donatello saw it happen, the small chink in Raphael’s resolve. He blinked, swallowed thick and his shoulders lost a little of their tension.

“What is it ya wanna speak about?” he asked. Normally, Donatello might have cringed at the young man’s informal accent. However, it’d been a great long time since he’d heard Raphael speak.

Raphael’s voice had always been low. Even when they were children. Now, the deep baritone filled the space around them like melted butter. Don could easily see how a voice like that would send a shudder of fear through his enemies.

“It’s been a very … trying day.” Don said, “For me, in any case. I do wonder how long you’ve been privy to the idea of this new arrangement?” he asked. Raphael’s eyes searched him and he mulled over the question a moment. Chewed on it in his brain.

“The night 'a Leo ‘n Karai’s wedding.” He spit out, then quickly cleared his throat, and attempted to mask his dialect, “Lord Splinter expressed his wish for me to take Leonardo’s place in the, uh, arrangement.” He licked his lips, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Donatello nodded in acknowledgment.

“A few weeks then.” He said. Raphael only nodded. Donatello offered up a ‘ _hmm_ ’, then he inhaled deeply and schooled himself,

“Drastic changes like this can be jarring.” he told him, “I can’t imagine how this new set of circumstances has affected you, and what plans you may have had. For this, I am sorry.”

If Raphael’s gaze had seemed intense before, it was even moreso now as Don took a step closer. It was clear by his body language that the young man was uncomfortable, but he was also paying very close attention.

Still, Donatello could not determine what he was thinking behind those golden eyes.

“However,” Don said, “I am also very grateful for your willingness to see this union through. This marriage will facilitate the much needed legal trade and tender between our two clans. And I am excited for the leaps forward we are about to make.”

Raphael’s eyes searched him a moment longer, before he nodded,

“Yeah, me too.” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “I mean yes.” He blurted, “Yes, me too.” Donatello smiled, and it was the first one that felt real all evening.

The accent was horrible, really, but-

“You don’t have to do that.” Don told him, and put on his thickest layer of charm. “Your dialect is...endearing.” Raphael clearly didn’t know what to do with that. He inhaled sharply, his tongue running under his upper lip.

“I, uh, like the way you talk, too.”

The comment had surprised Don, once he wrapped his brain around it, but it had completely flustered the young Hamato lord. “I mean, ya always sound like ya know what your talkin’ about.” his hands were first crossed firmly over one another, before being held up defensively, only to return to the the safety of their former position, “I feel like ya know what your talkin’ about. You’re uh-”

Don was now finding himself unsure what to do with...whatever this was.

The brutish Hamato warrior was trying to compliment him. At least he thought that was what was happening.

Don’s earlier anger relented.

Though it wasn’t the level effort Don had hoped for, it was, in fact, an attempt to try.

He’d take that.

“Thank you.” he said, and Raphael’s mouth quickly snapped shut, seemingly relieved to do so.

Again, Don inhaled deeply,

“So,” he said, “Do you truly plan to skip the rest of the meal? Michelangelo arranged quite an impressive dessert display.”  
  
When they returned to the table, April was quick to make conversation. May the Gods bless the clever girl.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raph had many reasons to disapprove of the new arrangement.
> 
> The first being his brother’s untimely love affair.

“You’re fidgeting”

“No I ain’t.”

“No _, you’re not_.”

“Bite me.”

Leonardo sighed heavily from beside him, taking this particular battle as a loss.

And why wouldn’t he? Because Leo also won the wars. This fight certainly wasn’t worth the effort.

Or maybe Leo was showing Raphael pity, which would infuriate him even more.

Raphael sighed heavily, sinking in his seat. During most of their trip north, Leonardo had rode in a separate palanquin with Usagi and his new wife, leaving Lord Splinter, Casey, and Raphael to their main family carriage. In normal circumstances, Raphael would have preferred to have been on horseback, however-

“Come now, one more time.” Leo directed, shuffling the papers back in order. Their Lord wanted Raphael to propose the new arrangement himself, and Leonardo had been given the task of instructing him.  
  
An impossible feat, in Raphael’s opinion. Both because he did not favor Leonardo as an instructor, and because of the content in itself. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, to put it lightly. Raphael just wanted to sit there and dwell on them. To try and decipher how their reconnaissance mission of the Foot Clan had turned into this. A love affair, a marriage.

The night that Raphael had caught them, Leo and Karai, wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing in the shadows of the moon, there’d been a lot of things he probably should have said. Raph should have made accusations about consorting with a potential enemy. About jeopardizing not only their mission, but their reputations as Hamato Terrapin lords, and as students of the Hamato Ninja Clan.

“Let me explain.” Leo had implored Raphael. But the first thing that had left Raph’s lips were:

_"What about Donatello?”_

Leo hadn’t answered that at the time, instead focusing on why **this** union was of higher priority.

At first, Raphael had thought his brother’s desire to marry the Lady Karai was a fruitless venture. There was no way their Lord, or Lord Oroku, would let such a thing continue. For many decades the Foot Clan had spent gratuitous amounts of time and firepower attempting to advance on Hamato ruled land.

There was simply no conceivable way either lord would permit this.

He’d only been privy to one of the conversations, but Raphael realized quickly how wrong he was. When Leonardo had pled his case with Lord Splinter, it had been clear their sensei was _initially_ displeased.  
  
“This will mean the disintegration of a long promised union with the Tang clan.” He’d told Leo.

“The Tang clan are our allies, and have been for many generations.” Leonardo had argued.

“An established relationship does not give us the right to go back on our word.” Lord Splinter had bit back.

“I understand,” Leo said, wetting his lips and revealing his trepidation. “I only-”

“Do you understand?”

It was a rare thing, for Lord Splinter not to allot Leonardo the time to speak his mind. Their sensei had a great deal of respect and pride for his young student. Leonardo was best in shinobi under his dojo’s flag. “The purpose behind anointing you and Raphael as lords was to strengthen the overall terrapin presence in our region. The very reason you are lords at all.” he said. “And this union-”

“I understand, sensei.” Another rare thing, for Leonardo to interrupt. It took Lord Splinter by surprise. “I understand, that for the terrapin clan, this marriage is important. But for the Hamato clan as a whole, for the entire region even, uniting an entirely human faction with an anthropomorphic lord….it’s unparalleled.”

 

...

 

In the end, Lord Splinter had relented, because Leonardo was right. This was not an opportunity that could be squandered, no matter the circumstances.

Lady Karai had seemed so very genuine, and Lord Oroku had agreed that his young daughter would be relocated under Hamato rule. His boarders had not opened, but trade routes had, and a peace treaty was met.

It was unprecedented.

Raphael’s question remained though. What about the Tang’s first terrapin son? The answer came weeks later, from Lord Splinter. As Leonardo and Lady Karai celebrated their recent nuptials over wine and sweets, their lord took him aside.

“Raphael.” He said as his old, calloused fingers wrapped around his cup of honeyed wine, “Would you consider taking your brothers place?”.

Raphael had been confused by the question.

Lord Splinter seemed to sense this, “I’d often wondered if I’d chosen the correct son for this arrangement.” He said, a single hand lifting to smooth the furs of his chin, “I realized too late that perhaps Leonardo and Lord Donatello were not a good match-”

“They get along great.” Raphael had replied. “Well.” he corrected, “At least they _did_.” Raphael didn’t know how Donatello would react when the news arrived that his betrothed had married another, but Raphael knew how **he’d** react.

“Yes.” Splinter carefully replied, “But agreeability does not make for a well rounded perspective.”

His Lord's explanation left Raphael none the wiser. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Lord Splin-”

“Raphael.” his sensei interrupted, “Sometimes,” He said, “Fate has a way of working itself out.” He tipped his head toward the young lord, giving him the all knowing look that often made Raph both roll his eyes and brim with admiration at the same time.  
  
Raphael had many reasons to disapprove of the new arrangement.

The first being his brother’s untimely love affair.

While on paper it certainly appeared as though it was a tactical move to unite two nations, in reality, his level headed older brother had (for the very first time in his life) acted impulsively. Dove in with his heart, rather than his head. Or so he’d explained it.

Raphael blamed another organ.  
  
No matter the excuses, it now left Raph shouldering the responsibility Leonardo had been preparing his whole life for. Because, of course, he’d agreed to it. Though he’d most certainly had a choice in the matter, which Lord Splinter had made clear, duty compelled Raphael to step up to the plate. He’d been made a lord for a reason, he’d told himself. And in actuality, Leo was now tackling a much more preponderant role.  
  
It was, however, pending on whether or not Donatello accepted their new offer.

Nevertheless, it felt…

It felt like a mess.

Raphael had spent years gearing up for a commanding role in the Hamato clan infantry. Years working with other clan faction leaders and earning a name for himself amongst the ranks. Leonardo was suppose to be the House Head of the Hamato Terrapin Clan, Donatello his Lord , and Raphael, alongside Usagi, a Hamato military commander. That was the plan.

The introduction of this human Foot Clan, of Lady Oroku Karai, sent everything off kilter. If this union was seen to fruition, Raphael wouldn’t even be under Hamato rule anymore. He’d be moving north. To the Tang empire. And though he trusted Usagi’s militant competence and knew he’d fulfill his role as an advisor, Raphael still worried at the thought of leaving Leonardo as the only terrapin lord within the Hamato house.  
  
Additionally, Raphael had not prepared to be a Head of House. He had not prepared to be, in any form, a politician. He was a warrior. A fighter. He knew that.

These concerns were all justified, in Raphael’s opinion. And yet still, they seemed to pale in the shadow of another problem. One that seemed minuscule to everyone but Raphael.

And perhaps it was because of Leonardo’s intensions beyond the union of the Hamato and Foot Clan. It was his arrogance. His sheer audacity to cast aside his engagement and pursue this impassioned love affair. Who was he to fall in love with another, when Lord Donatello clearly loved him so?  
  
And how could Raphael possibly marry someone so enamored with his own older brother?

 

….

  
Raphael could still remember the day Lord Splinter sat he and Leonardo down to tell them another terrapin clan had been formed. And that two boys had been declared lords.

“In the northern regions, under Tang rule.” he had told them.

“North?” Leonardo questioned, “But isn’t it too cold up there for terrapins?” Splinter had praised Leonardo for his attention to detail and his knowledge of terrapin biology.

“They reside on the southernmost ridge of the Tang empire.” he had said. “It isn’t easy for them, but they manage.”

“How old are they?” they had asked.

“Around your ages.” they were told.

“Can we meet them?”

…

“We leave tomorrow.”

They’d been so excited.

The first trip north had been agonizingly long. They couldn’t wait to meet others like themselves. And not just terrapins, fellow lords. Two other boys who, like them, had been chosen and anointed to represent a terrapin clan. This new Tang clan was only the second in many, many decades.

_“Will they look like us?” …. “How did they get so far north?” …. “Do they train like we do?”_

They’d had so many questions.

Of course, when the moment came, both Raphael and Leonardo had been stricken with shyness.  
  
Though the remarkable differences between them and the Tang clan hadn’t helped. And not just in appearance. This territory was much, much colder than their own. The Hamato brothers were assured that the summer months were warmer, and that this winter did not last long. However, they had almost receded into their shells the moment they left the palanquins. The Keep was much warmer, but still…

Unlike their home, with wide bowed archways and outdoor access on nearly every floor, the Tang castle was all cobblestone, and sealed shut with thick wooden doors. Despite its sheer enormity, it somehow felt confined.

And their people.... the brothers were told to expect to see many different species. They were warned. However, the amount of furred beings was simply astounding.

Even the terrapins, the two new lords, were nothing like Raphael and Leonardo. The younger one was terribly small, with a yellow tint to his faint and heavily speckled skin. And the other brother, the first son, had similar faded coloration, his appearing more olive. And though he was much taller, as tall as Leonardo, he was thin as a rail.

“Welcome to our home, Lord Hamato, young lords.” The human woman seated at the high table, with long dark hair and pale features, regarded them with a smile. “I am Lady Tang Shen.” She announced.

Lord Splinter had been certain to relay to them the great significance Lady Tang Shen’s position held. Like Lord Splinter, she was a Clan Head. She ruled the entire Tang Empire, just as Hamato Yoshi ruled over the entire Hamato empire. Every subsidiary clan, every species.  
  
However, Lady Shen would one day be known as a very important historical figure. She was the first, and as it stands, only human leader of an anthropomorphic clan. While humans still have clans within anthropomorphic societies, there is also a heavy contingent of the human race that separates itself from all other species, and will not allow anthropomorphic beings within their communities.

And, as it has been for many centuries, more than half of the world’s population are of entirely human biology.  
  
“And these young men..” Lady Shen declared, “..are the new lords of the Tang terrapin clan.”

She held out her hand, presenting them accordingly. “This is the Tang terrapin’s first son, Lord Donatello.” The thin boy’s wide brown eyes blinked many times and he worried his lips together, but he bowed the moment his name was said.

“It is an honor to have you in our home.” he announced in a small voice. Lady Shen smiled, and turned to her left.

“And this is the Tang terrapin’s second son, Lord Michelangelo.” If they’d thought Donatello’s eyes had been wide, Michelangelo’s baby blues were even larger. So much so, he looked positively terrified. The boy bowed his head with such force, it hit the floor on which he knelt.

“ _Oh_!” The Lady Shen exclaimed, reaching down to pat his back as he rubbed his forehead.

“I’m okay!” he piped. Lady Shen nodded and discretely cleared her throat.

“You are the first guests they’ve greeted!” She told them, “And they are a bit nervous.”

Lord Splinter gave a warm chuckle that somehow filled the vast room.

“We are quite honored.” He told them.

Raphael remembered.

 

\---------------

 

He remembered the way Donatello’s eyes had taken in every detail of he and his brother. He’d asked so many questions. Perhaps it was a good thing he and Leonardo had been nervous, for there’d been little room for chat beyond Lord Donatello’s curiosity.

_‘When were you appointed?’ … ‘What roles and responsibilities do you fill?’ … ‘What classes do you take?’ …. ‘What does that symbol mean?’ … ‘What do you mean by training?’..._

A part of Raphael had been annoyed. He was not as eloquent as his older brother, and did not appreciate the magnitude of questions Donatello directed toward him, and expected him to answer. But another part of him was … flattered. This was the first time someone had been just as interested in Raphael’s opinion as Leonardo’s.

“You already asked Leo that.” Raph had snapped after many repeat questions.

“Yes,” the new lord had replied, “But everyone experiences things differently. I’m simply curious about your personal perspective.” And he was. He listened to every word Raphael said as though it were scripture. Every word. Raphael knew, because he responded with unbridled earnesty.

_‘How interesting’ … ‘I never thought of it that way’ … ‘That’s exceptionally creative!’ … ‘Can you tell me more about that?’...’I’m sorry that made you feel that way’... ‘Oh, I believe you.’_

“He’s trying to figure out how to be a lord.” Leonardo had announced later that night, in the privacy of their now warmed rooms. Raphael had thought about that. Thought about what it meant to him, to be a Lord.

Though his memories were often foggy, diluted by time and the natural distortion of childhood, he still recalled the fear he felt in the years before he and Leonardo were under Lord Splinter’s care. Moreso than any memory, he remembered the chill of anxiety. The ache of hunger. And the swelling rage.

Like most of the children within their clan, they did not know their birth mother. Though they were terribly few in number, it was accepted within their tiny terrapin community that the rearing of children was a clan effort. It didn’t take Raphael and Leonardo long to understand just how impoverished their people were. It wasn’t uncommon for children to be lost to the Gods at a very young age, and their sick would often die quickly. They did not have many elderly.

When they’d met him, they had not known why Lord Splinter had invited them to his dojo.

They had not known who he was, or the prominence he held within the city.

They’d simply been offered food, in exchange for a demonstration of whatever physical prowess they could display.

“Would you like to train as ninjas for the Hamato clan?” He’d asked.

And of course they did.

After that, it was many weeks before they’d finally discover their teacher was not just a dojo leader, but Hamato Yoshi himself, lord head of the Hamato murinae clan, and an elected official to the Clan Head’s counsel.  
  
He was also the anointed successor of Hamato Yūta, the current Clan Head at the time. So when Lord Yūta died, Lord Yoshi took the mantle as leader.  
  
From what Raphael understood, this wasn’t an uncommon thing, for someone within the council to step up and fill the role. Under the Clad Head and the Council are houses, subsidiary clans, that are often divided by race or ethnicity. And within these clans are elected officials. Someone to represent their people.

And though Council Members can anoint new clan representatives, only the Clan Head can declare the existence of a new clan.

Which is exactly what Lord Splinter did.

“It is my wish to breathe new life into the region’s terrapin clans.” He’d told Leonardo and Raphael one day, not long after his new appointment, “To bring them out of poverty, and to rise anew. It is my wish for you boys to be Hamato lords, representatives of your clans.”  
  
But they were children, and outside of their lessons, that meant little to them.  
  
To Raphael, it sounded like regular meals and more ninja training. Even after they’d accepted, he’d never given it much thought beyond that.

“Leo,” Raphael whispered in the dark. His brother gave a displeased grunt and rolled toward him, fingers rubbing at a sleepy eye.

“Mm-Wut?” he replied into his pillow. Raphael hesitated, and Leo lifted his head. “What?” he repeated, clearer.

“What does it mean to you?” he asked. “To be a lord?” Leonardo frowned deeply at the question.

“To represent the people.” he answered after a moment, “To learn as much as I can, so that I can help our clan.” he said.    
  
Lord Splinter had done a lot for their clan on his own. Had instituted a tax relief program for those of terrapin linage, and provided placement opportunities to get them into better housing and employment markets.

What could he and Leo possibly do to help?

The thought plagued him for days. And he didn’t want to press Leo further. His brother had already seemed disappointed that he’d even had to ask.

“Here you are, Lord Raphael.”

Raph startled at the voice, looking first to the small pouch held out to him, misshapen and already dampening from the ice inside. He accepted it and turned his eyes up to Donatello as the boy slipped gingerly down onto the mat beside him. Raphael pressed the cold compress to his bruised lip.

Leonardo had gotten a good swing at him during practice, something Donatello and Michelangelo had been eager to watch. The new lords had only recently begun physical training. They wanted to see what they’d be aspiring toward. They’d ooh-ed and ahh-ed for several minutes, and if he were being honest, Raphael was absolutely preening at the praise. It had distracted him enough for Leo to get a good, hard hit in.

Donatello had rushed to get some ice, while Michelangelo begged Leo to teach him something, anything. His older brother was now leading the second Tang son in a lower level kata.

“You are exceptionally formidable in hand to hand.” Donatello said beside him. He turned to Donatello’s wide smile, which, on such a thin face, appeared far too bright. Raphael shrugged and experimentally ran his tongue over his lip, testing it to see if the cut would reopen when he spoke.

“Yeah, until the part where Leo clipped me.” he muttered. Donatello gave a soft laugh before pressing his lips together, worrying them a moment,

“I think Michelangelo might be able to handle mid to close range. He’s very fast.” The new lord looked out onto the dojo floor, observing his brother as the boy attempted, poorly, to mimic Leo’s stance. Raphael watched as those dark eyes followed their movements; critically, analytically. “But I think I might be more suited for long range.” He looked down at himself and shrugged, “I’m not built as sturdy as the rest of you.”

Raphael paused a moment, uncertain how to respond. Then-

“Sometimes I wish I’d gone with long range.” he said, and made an exaggerated motion to his now plump lip. Raphael was pleased with Donatello’s response, a laugh that pulled his lips wide over his face.

“Do not discredit yourself.” he said, “You are very impressive.”

A strange discomfort boiled in Raphael’s stomach and he suddenly felt too warm for his skin. He inhaled sharply, suppressing the unfamiliar feeling, and gave a passive shrug.

“My form ain’t as sharp as Leo’s though.” he rebutted. Donatello offered up a shrug of his own.

“Perhaps.” he said, and once again looked out toward their brothers, who were now just fumbling about the mat, “Leo’s moves are exact, and well honed. But yours are strong and with purpose-”  
  
That uncomfortable fluttering in Raphael’s stomach returned and he swallowed thickly.

“-Michelangelo will prove to be agile and quick, I’m certain. Everyone brings different strengths to the table.”

Raphael had formed a lot of preconceived assumptions about Donatello before this moment. After meeting him for the first time, he’d thought the lanky boy would no doubt be just like his Raphael’s own older brother. He was smart, well versed, and like Leo, far more interested in education and clan affairs. Donatello was clearly more apt for the role of first son than Michelangelo. Raph had inadvertently grouped him right alongside Leo as one and the same.

But, in fact, Donatello wasn’t like Leonardo. Whereas Leo sought to lead, Donatello sought to learn. And perhaps that would change one day. Perhaps once Donatello had collected all the information he needed, he’d aspire for the same things Leonardo did. But Raphael didn’t think it was quite so black and white.

Both first sons exhibited a great aptitude for patience. However, it was a skill they demonstrated very differently. Leonardo garnered such patience from his uncanny ability to control his emotional responses. Donatello was patient because he was understanding. Because he was capable of empathizing with those around him.

He just seemed to have a broader range of thinking; a natural ability to look at something from a multitude of perspectives. To Raphael, these characteristics made him seem more … _genuine_.

“And what about you?” Raph asked, calling Donatello’s attention back toward him. Donatello gave a moment of pause before a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“Long range.” he said again, “That way I have the space, and time, to be thinking a number of steps ahead of the rest of you.”

Raphael winced a bit when the smile pulled at his lips, feeling the split reopen. He quickly returned the compress to it.

“Lord Donatello?” He asked after a moment, “What does it mean to you, to be a lord?”

Donatello blinked a number of times, his brow bones turning inward and his lips pressing together as he considered the question.

“I want to provide for my clan.” he said with finality, “I want to be a tool to facilitate a better future.”

Raphael couldn’t help his frown. Leo was smart, and Donatello was quite possibly smarter. What was Raph missing that they were seeing? What could they possibly do to make such claims a reality?

“Is that a bad answer?” Raphael was surprised to find that Donatello was still questioning himself. Raph shook his head. For a moment, he wondered if maybe he’d get a more helpful response from Michelangelo. But he didn’t want to be posing this question to _every_ lord in the Tang Empire.

And in any case, Donatello wasn’t Leonardo. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as disappointed by what Raphael felt was his own incompetence. Raphael swallowed thickly and took a deep breath.

“I don’t get it.” he said, “What can we do, really, to help our clans?” he looked up to Donatello’s questioning eyes. “What can _I_ do to help anyone, that hasn’t already been done?”

Donatello stared at him for a moment, and Raphael wondered if he was thinking the same thing Leo was the other night. If he was befuddled as to how Raphael was made a lord. Donatello sat back just a bit, and then he shrugged.

“I don’t know yet.” His neck arched downward, and he shook his head, a laugh escaping him, “I haven’t quite figured it out. But-” he looked back up toward Raphael, and held out his hand, offering up his rightmost digit. “How about when one of us knows, we tell each other. Promise?”

Raphael wasn’t certain how long he’d stared at Donatello’s finger, or what subconscious motor function reacted of its own accord to wrap his own around it. But despite all that, he felt incredibly relieved.

“You’re a step ahead of me though.” Donatello said as they sealed their promise. Raphael's brow curved questioningly, “You’ve already done something. Just by accepting the role as a public lord, you inspired the Tang clan to declare a terrapin clan of it's own.” Donatello smiled brightly as his hand lowered and their fingers slipped apart. “The Tang Terrapin clan exists because of you.”

 

\------------------

 

Raphael also remembered the day Lord Splinter and Lady Shen sat them all down, and presented their marriage proposal to Leo and Donatello. He remembered Leo repeating Splinter’s words about growth and duty, being eager to please. He remembered Lady Tang Shen pulling Donatello away to discuss the matter, only to return just moments later, and warmly accept the offer.

In the years they’d grown up together, Raphael had been jealous of Leonardo for many things.

He remembered never feeling quite as jealous as he did at that moment.

 

\------------------

  
Ten years later, a new moment arose. Raphael could feel himself clamming up, every muscle in his body tense. Something Michelangelo did not fail to notice, casting him many queer looks. Raph had practiced his words for hours upon hours in that plaquin, feeling quite certain it was of little consequence.

He’d truly thought Donatello would have been more…. upset.

He’d only considered two outcomes: That 1) Donatello’s rage toward Leonardo would have, at least, softened him for Raphael or 2) Donatello would have been so offended by the Hamato clan as a whole that the proposal of this new arrangement would have been immediately withdrawn.

That didn’t happen though. At all.

Donatello had smiled, and wished them well. Had calmly and kindly offered them food in celebration. Had let Leonardo reach over, and hold his hand, while he basically told Lord Donatello he had left him, weeks ago!

Raphael was jealous of Leonardo’s impeccable public speaking skills, as he’d coolly explained the circumstances in a tactical way, continuously going back to the importance of this human/anthropomorphic marriage.

But moreso, Raphael was jealous, that even though Leonardo had done the worst possible thing he could do to this man, Donatello still admired him enough to forgive him on the spot.

Loved him enough.

How could Raphael possibly, _possibly_ marry him?  
  
So, he’d clamped up. A moment of silence passed over the group, and before Donatello could make the motion to leave, Lord Splinter had to interject, and perform the duty himself.

“So you want one of us to marry Raphael instead?” Michelangelo had chimed.  
  
Apparently Raph hadn’t thought this through at all, because he’d never speculated that the change in circumstances might warrant a change on their end as well. That he might be asked to marry Michelangelo instead. Immediately his brain had told him that was a bad idea. Though Raphael was fond of the exuberant and creative young lord, if their childhood escapades were any indication of how well they worked together, this union was all for naught.

His fear was short lived, however, as Donatello, without even asking for time to consider the offer, readily accepted it. He’d bowed his head, and remained that way until Lady Shen dismissed them. Raphael supposed he should have known better. Donatello had long had a penchant of being predictable, right up until the moment that he isn’t.

The young Tang lord had not spared him a glance, and though it certainly perturbed Raphael, he still found himself taking a moment, many moments, perusing his now counterpart. Many things were the same. The same warm, earthy tone to his skin. The same softness around his eyes. The same informed and well versed dialect.

But many things were different. He was taller now, his form no longer lanky and misshapen. He’d filled out, his edges had become sharper, more toned. Those curious eyes were now far more analytical. And he was certain of himself now.

You could feel it in the air around him. The energy emanated from him like a soft glow. He was so smart. So sure. It was a feeling of confidence and assurance.

It reminded him of that day, when the young Tang lord had extended his pinky in a promise. It hadn’t been concrete information that Donatello had given him. In fact, it had been none at all. But it **felt** encouraging. Comforting. It felt like everything was going to be alright.  
  
Raphael had been drawn in by that. Attracted to that.

Much about them both had changed. That however, had not.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Such causal nature didn’t make Donatello uncomfortable, per say. It just felt strange that Michelangelo had a better grasp than he did of who Donatello’s intended was, as a person. Frankly, he didn’t know how to bridge that gap.

Karai was impressive, that was indisputable.

Donatello’s eyes followed her sleek form as it danced about the training hall, each movement more fluid than the last. She was the epitome of control and precision, performing complex katas with unnerving ease. Her style mirrored Leonardo’s own, if not being a bit more graceful than he.

When she finished, Leonardo praised her with enthusiasm. Mikey ooh-ed and ahh-ed at her agility. Donatello expressed his own genuine approval. Raphael said nothing.

Leonardo preceded her. He was always eager to display the growth in his abilities since their last encounter. Typically, Raphael was as well. Today, however, he was notably silent.

The situation was still uncomfortable, for certain, but Donatello believed the tension had lifted a great deal since their talk during dinner. When he’d entered the training hall, Raphael had taken the seat between his brother and Donatello, and gave Don a courteous nod.

It wasn’t earth-shattering, but it was progress.

Leonardo performed his kata. His every movement was exact, and every swing of his blade was in perfect rhythm. He was flawless.

“Very good, my son.” Lord Yoshi said as Leonardo returned to his seat, bowing his head in thanks.

“Man, I don’t wanna follow that.” Michelangelo announced, purely in jest as he rose from the ground, nunchucks in hand. Donatello could not conceal his smirk, however, as his brother fell into form. Karai may have been agile and quick, but Michelangelo’s speed and ingenuity were remarkable. His body moved in ways many would perceive to be impossible.

Over the years Mikey had a difficult time coming into his own. The skills were there, ever present, but his lack of focus kept him lingering a peg below his peers. It seemed though, as adulthood neared, his mind and body became naturally attuned. Though Don knew that his own performance would, by comparison, be lackluster, he was terribly eager to see the Hamato’s reactions to the impeccable growth his young brother had made since they’d last seen him.

Don was not disappointed. Leonardo’s brows had risen high on his head, and Raphael had openly gaped.

“Very impressive!” Lord Yoshi praised, laughing heartily as Michelangelo returned to his seat, blowing kisses to his ‘audience’. Donatello beamed proudly at his younger brother.

“Very good, Michelangelo.” Lady Shen said, clapping softly and smiling at her student. Leonardo leaned forward.

“Raph?” he inquired, indicating to the mats. The second Hamato son rose from his seat, pulling his sai from his belt as he stood before them. It had been many years since Donatello had made a full evaluation of Raphael’s skills. It was not as though he hadn’t watched the young man during practice over the years, or took note of his inherent abilities. But it had been a long time since he’d studied Raphael’s movements with earnest.

Raphael was finely shaped. It did not take a keen eye to see that. He spent a great deal of time fine tuning his body, making the most of his mass. And when those muscles were on full display, that mass was entirely imposing. His body was thick, but he was very aware of his environment, and his movements were sound. Powerful.

It would not be surprising to hear the first word used to describe him as being: Strong.

Because he was. Incredibly and unimaginably, strong.

But, Don thought, another word came to his mind: Passionate.

Fervent, in fact. His energy burned hot and filled the room with its intensity.

If this man decided to move the earth itself, Donatello thought he just might do it.

“Very good, Raphael.” Lord Yoshi said as the he finished his kata.

“Nice, man.” Mikey praised, reaching out to clap his hand as Raphael returned to his seat.

In most circumstances, Donatello was not a terribly bold individual. In fact, he was often polite to a fault, rarely spoke out of turn, and held his courtesies close to his sleeve. So what compelled him, in that moment, to be so frank, he did not know.

“It seems you are every bit as fierce as you are rumored to be.” He said, calling the attention of the room, and halting Raphael before he sat. “Spectacularly strong. Every attack well struck, each more so than the last. Like a unrelenting force that simply continues to gain, and regain, momentum. It’s strikingly impressive-”

Don might have continued. His string of thought was not yet complete. However, the words died on his tongue when he met Raphael’s eyes, the golden orbs burning with a heat that plucked the voice right from his throat.

“Your astute observations are a thing of great value, Lord Donatello.” Yoshi’s voice was like a low drumming that broke the tension in the room, without being at all cutting. Donatello tore his eyes away from Raphael’s, turning to the elder Hamato Lord.

“Thank you.” He said, “Though, it is now **I** that feels concern over following such a performance.” He quipped. It earned him a laugh from the old rat.

Donatello stood.

Many moments ago he had not been, in the slightly form, at all concerned at being overshadowed by his brother.  Now, he found he was suddenly struck with nerves. He crossed the room to fetch his bo staff, then made his way to the center of the mats, and-

The training hall doors swung open with a  _whoosh_ , and in stormed April, her hair windswept and eyes wide as she scanned the room.

“Forgive me, My Lords,” She said loudly before her eyes landed on her charge, “Lord Donatello, we have a bit of a situation that requires your immediate attention.”

It took Donatello only a moment to make sense of her request.

“Oh!” He said, quickly returning his bo staff to its place, “It seems I am spared.” He flippantly told the room as he made his way toward his council.

“Is everything alright Miss O’Neil?” Lady Shen implored. April tried to offer a reassuring smile, but quickly followed it up with a shake of the head.

“The aqueduct in the canine settlement has been flooded with waste.” She said, “Their representative is hoping you might be willing to install the same filtration system you’ve been using throughout the city.” She told Don. Lady Shen audibly tsked, and frankly Donatello shared her sentiment. It has been many months since Donatello had begun integrating his water purification apparatus to the city’s water supply. However, some representatives, the canine representative included, had been weary of allowing anyone to tamper with their systems.

Donatello understood, to an extent. The water supplies were considered a source of their people’s livelihood, and Don’s invention was… just that. A new concept to behold. It worked, Donatello was certain of it. However, helping others understand **how** it worked was another venture altogether.

It matter little now though.

“Of course,” He said, and began to usher April out the door.

“Are you in need of assistance, Lord Donatello?” Yoshi’s voice called after them. Donatello meant to decline, however-

“It is a mess down there.” April informed, “I think any aid would be incredibly invaluable.”

  


\----------------------------------

  


Donatello would attest that they had made good time.

The Tang Council dispersed the city guard to aid in damming up the aqueduct to prevent any further contamination. As the citizens began coming out in flocks to help sift the water, Don and a handful of aides prepared the filtration units for transfer and installation.

Their Hamato guests had seemed visibly surprised by the complexity of Don’s invention.

“And this purifies the water?" Lord Yoshi had asked, gaping at the large metal pieces that would eventually be the components of a full filtering unit.

“Entirely.” Don assured, and though he made no attempt to be humble, he intended to fully back his case. “All of the city’s water supply is sourced from the Minae River. However, many of our people’s sublet communities wished to control their own usage. Though the core of the city draws from the same duct, outside of the 30 mile radius, the subdivisions have their own conduits.” Don explained as he instructed his aides into place. “And they are manned and maintained by these subdivisions. It’s a strenuous task, as every winter season the conduits become more corroded, and we are time and time again facing issues of tainted water...

...I put forward an initiative to place my filters at each of these aqueducts, which the city will maintain. These filters will help control and limit the corrosion and, to a degree, prevent full contamination in the event a conduit breaks down. Their construction is cheaper than the monetary costs it required to repair an aqueduct, and they most certainly ensure a significantly higher rate of longevity. However, participation by the subdivisions was voluntary...”

“Don, we’re ready!” April called out from the other end of the duct opening as their cranes slowly inched the filtration pieces into place. Don secured his toolbelt around his waist and pack at his side. Michelangelo and the Hamato brothers, along with their councils, were tasked with manning the pulley Donatello would be lowered on. Normally Don’s wheel and axle pulley required only one person to monitor the cable. However, this particular aqueduct didn’t allow the space he needed to set up the device.

So, they were doing it the old fashion way.

“He’s done this before?” Leonardo called out, having to shout over the sound of flowing water and whirring of heavy machinery. Michelangelo gave a nod, motioning for them to mimic his actions as he wound the cable over his hand, allowing for a secure grip.

“Oh yeah, tons of times.” He assured. Don descended and quickly set to work, one by one welding the pieces into place.

He’d nearly finished when a sudden snap rang through the air. He looked up to see the ground beneath one of his cranes had caved, and the cable that held the unit fell loose. Don reactively reached out to grip the metal band, holding it in place. It had already been secured on the other ends, however, he couldn’t very well leave it without support. Otherwise the pressure would be too much on the hinges and bolts. He strained to hold it still as he heard his brother and aides scrambling above him, attempting to save the crane before it fell, and secure the cable.

Despite the noise, a moment later a thud sounded a few feet away from him, and when Don looked to find it’s source, he was met with Raphael’s fierce golden eyes. The young man came up beside him and reached his arms around the band, lifting it into place.

“I got this, do what you’ve gotta do.” he said.

Don’s shocked lasted but a moment before he swooped into action, pressing his body directly into Raphael’s and using the hillside as leverage to get into the spaces he needed.

He’d never worked quite so fast.

As his brother and a small team pulled the crane to safety, Donatello and Raphael stepped away from the completed filter.

“And here you were worried about following my performance.” Raphael’s voice met his ears, and Don turned to meet his gaze, but the young man was still marveling at the filter. “Now **that** was impressive.” he said with earnest. Don was genuinely surprised.

“Thank you. For that, and for your assistance. Your aide came just in time.” He said, and though he was very much still panting to catch his breath, he hoped he’d conveyed his sincerity. Raphael gave a shrug, before turning to Don with a smirk.

“It’s what I’m good for.” he said, and briefly flexed a bicep, before turning to shout at _Casey Jones_ for a line back up.

Don was grateful he was still a mess from the strenuous manual labor he’d just performed, otherwise his blush would have been terribly obvious.

  


\-------------------------------------

 

After the compromising issue in the canine district, the other communities that had been holding back on joining the Water Filter Initiative quickly rectified their decisions. Over the next few days, Don’s time was occupied with making the installations.

Eventually though, Michelangelo pulled him aside to address what he considered to be a high priority issue: The Wedding.

Donatello was the type to premeditate; to plan far in advance. To consider every possible complication and outcome, and prepare for it. He was deliberate and prudent.

Michelangelo was innovative. Able to take minimal thoughts and ideas and morph them into extraordinary works of art.

Though the two differed in many ways, what they shared was: creativity.  Donatello and Michelangelo both had an amazing capability to see things that others did not.

And together, they put on some very impressive parties.

So, with that considered, they were very surprised to find they were encountering a number of difficulties preparing for the wedding.

"We should move it.” Donatello said with finality, flipping through the papers before him as his dear brother did the same from across the table.

“To where?” Michelangelo asked. But Don didn’t have an answer.

Originally, the plan had been to have the ceremony in the zen garden, and the reception in the great western hall. However, Donatello had chosen the zen garden because Leonardo found it most pleasing. Now, however, that did not seem suitable.

Granted, he was under no expectation to make such changes to the wedding day. Nearly everything was as it had been. The day, the timing, the guest list. The only thing different was **who** Don would be marrying.

…

Donatello knew he’d made the right decision. This terrapin union was important, no matter how it worked out. The turmoil he was feeling was temporary, and jarred only by its suddenness. Soon, these emotions would pass, and he would refocus his efforts to his clan, and duties as a lord of both Tang and Hamato.

“The rhododendron garden?” Mikey piped. Donatello shook his head,

“We haven’t addressed the yellow-jacket problem.” he explained. His brother cringed, recalling how last year they’d had to relocate a ceremony at the last minute when a family of bees had made their presence clearly known during the rehearsal dinner. Michelangelo gave a heavy sigh.

“I doubt Raph is going to care where it is.” he lamented. Donatello peered up at him, considering not such much _what_ he’d said, but _how_ he’d said it. His younger brother liked the second Hamato son. They’d spent a great deal of time together as children, after all. He enjoyed Lord Raphael’s company. To the degree that he felt comfortable using such an informal title to address him.

Such causal nature didn’t make Donatello uncomfortable, per say. It just felt strange that Michelangelo had a better grasp than he did of who Donatello’s intended was, as a person. Frankly, he didn’t know how to bridge that gap.

He’d thought he’d made leeway, following dinner that first night, and when Raphael had come to aide him at the conduit. However, due to his suddenly busy schedule, he had not seen the young man in a number of days. In fact, the previous evening was the first he’d actually made it to dinner since the water incident.

It had, once again, been awkward.

Donatello cleared his throat,

“You know him better than I,” His voice was more tentative that he’d intended, “Perhaps you could garner a preferable location from him?”

Michelangelo’s eyes shot up and suddenly Donatello’s statement felt more like a confession. His intuitive little brother watched him with scrutiny, and despite spending a lifetime under that strangely perceptive gaze, Donatello still had to fight not to fidget.

“I could do that.” Mikey said after a moment, his tone not at all forthcoming.

  


\------------------------------

  


Michelangelo had left after that to attend to his appointed task, despite Don’s insistence that it was in no way urgent. Still, many hours passed before he returned. He burst unceremoniously into Donatello’s work space and collapsed on his lounge - a place Don often fell asleep on nights he was working late.

Donatello paused, turning away from his bit drill and casting his brother a glance.

“Where have you been all this time?” he asked. His brother’s head lolled lazily his way and he sighed in exasperation.

“Everywhere.” He said dramatically, throwing his arm over his face. Don lifted a brow that his brother did not see. “I’ve got nothing.” he said then, “Raph doesn’t care where the ceremony is.”

Don wasn’t sure what to address first.

“You’ve been with him this whole time?” he asked. Mikey nodded, still not looking Don’s way.

“Yeah, him and _Casey Jones_.” He informed. Finally, the young man rolled over, folding his arms atop one another to cushion his chin, “Honestly,” he said, “I really think he’s fine with whatever.”

Don thought on that.

“He expressed disinterest, then? Impartiality?” he asked. Mikey was hesitant to answer.

“Yeah, I guess, he-”

“How did you go about asking and in what manner did he respond?” Don implored, leaning back against his workstation and folding his arms. Mikey became more alert at that, and eyed his brother wearily.

“I took them around the keep and told them about some of our plans.” he said, “I told them we wanted to change the ceremony venue, but he didn’t really offer any alternatives.”

Don nodded in acknowledgment.

“What plans did you detail?” Mikey inhaled at that, sharply through his nose, and his eyes narrowed. He could tell Don was leading his questions into something, and was uncertain if it was a path he wanted to venture down.

“I took them to the kitchens to talk about the food. I showed them some of the colors patterns, and I took them to the Western Great Hall.” Mikey worried his lips, a gesture Don did not fail to miss.

“What did he say about that?” The question made Michelangelo’s eyes flicker about, confirming to Donatello that his brother was withholding something. Fortunately, the boy knew when he was caught.

“Well,” He drawled, cringing so that his snout wrinkled, “He didn’t seem to like it much at first, but then he said it was fine.”  Don frowned.

“What does that mean?” he asked. Mikey was puzzled, shrugging his shoulders to show as much.

“Sorry.” he offered up. Donatello supposed he’d put too much weight into his brother’s knowledge of his soon-to-be husband. They’d only spent a few weeks together every summer. That really wasn’t a great deal of time to establish an understanding of someone’s more telling mannerisms.

"Mikey.” He implored, calling his brother’s attention again. He chewed on his thought a moment, hesitant to continue. It was a thought he’d had much earlier in the week, and though he had entertained it privately, had yet to vocalize it to anyone.

“Yeah?” His brother encouraged. Don inhaled deeply, schooling himself.

“Do you think I should approach Lord Raphael with the proposal of an open relationship?” he asked. The concern immediately fell from his brother’s face, and he frowned deeply.

“No.”

  


\-------------------------------------

  


Hours later, after dismissing Michelangelo, Donatello was still debating over his thought.

Mikey had made it clear he’d objected to it, on the grounds that it was unhealthy for Don.

“It’s not at all proper.” he’d argued, “Could you really be alright with that kind of arrangement?”

But Don had argued that he was very much an adult, with an understanding of the true nature of their situation. This was not a marriage based on any affectionate feelings for one another. It was to unite their clans.

“Would you have been open toward something like this with Leonardo?” Mikey had asked.

He’d caught Don there.

“No,”  Don had said, “But Leonardo had more time to mentally prepare himself. Raphael has not had that luxury.”

Michelangelo was not convinced.

Still fretting, Donatello had decided to pose the question to his council when she’d arrived.

“It’s not unheard of.”April had said, “And in some cases, it may even be healthier, for the two parties to have a certain level of understanding.” Don had been relieved she’d been able to wrap her head around his perspective. “But still, do you plan in also partaking in other partners outside of wedlock?”

Despite his unwillingness to respond, April already knew the answer was no. Don was nothing if not proper. Adultery was not something he could ever dream of, even if he and his partner had an agreement.

So, April had also frowned at the idea.

Still, the disconnect at dinner remained. So before dessert, Donatello prompted Lord Raphael to join him outside.

“I wanted to offer apologies for my recent absence.” he said once they were no longer within earshot of any bystanders. Despite that they were soon to be entering the summer months, the air held a chill. For a moment they both looked off the promenade deck that ran across the ground’s pond. In the distance, lights could be seen from the pond pavilion. Now though, the night was so dark the water appeared like a sheet of black glass.

Lord Raphael offered up a nonchalant shrug,

“Duty calls.” He replied. Don nodded at that, took a deep breath, and schooled himself.

“Duty is actually, in part, what I wanted to discuss with you.” he began. Lord Raphael turned his full attention to Don, and he couldn’t help but take note of the man’s posture. He always stood with his hands at his waist, often gripping his belt. As though he wanted quick access to his sai, even when they weren’t there. The stance pulled his shoulders back and held his spine straight. Even when he meant to appear casual, Lord Raphael often looked the part of a general surveying the battlefield.

“What of it?” Raphael asked after a moment of silence passed. Despite his resolve entering this conversation, Donatello found the words hard to assemble.

“Suffice to say, we both understand the importance of the union we are about to embark into.” He began, and found his hands moving of their own accord. “And though it is not the arrangement that had once been intended, I am fully confident we will still yet succeed in our goals for a united terrapin clan.” Raphael’s eyes remained dutifully on him. “That being said, I thought it might be… wise to put something out on the table.” Don swallowed the lump that had formed in this throat and inhaled sharply. “I… I wanted you to be aware that I am receptive to the idea of this being an… open relationship.” He hadn’t realized until he’d stopped talking that he’d been pacing. He met Raphael’s eyes then, and was startled by their sharpness. For a moment, the man said nothing, his head tipping, as if he were still processing the words.

The silence hung for far too long, and Don grew anxious.

“As I said before, it must have been quite jarring being thrown into this so suddenly. And, if I dare to be so frank, I would much rather be aware of any other… suitors, and be able to prepare for the situation, than to find out by other means.”

Raphael’s brows pulled in and lips fell ajar. Still, he said nothing.

“What I mean to say is,” Don tried again, “Would it not be healthier, to have a certain level of understanding? I would rather be….I would rather be honest with you.”

At that, Raphael’s mouth clamped shut, and his confused stare smoothed out, replaced by a deep frown. Don thought to continue, though what he’d planned to say he did not know. However, Raphael gave a nod, and brusquely said,

“If that is what you want.”  He cast a glance to the dining hall. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Don’s mouth opened to object, but Raphael turned so quickly, turned his back so coldly, the words died on his tongue. Instead, he watched the young man skirt the walls of the dining hall, forgoing dessert and leaving without so much as a glance back.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> However, upon arriving at the top, he was met with Casey’s raised eyebrows, and mocking tone,  
> “How gallant of you.”

Chapter Four -------------------------------------

As per custom, the day after their arrival the two clans shared a morning training session together.    
  
“She’s gorgeous. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Raphael had tried to disway Casey from making advances at Donatello’s councilwoman, April. He’d implored him not to, in fact, as the lady’s lord seemed put off by his display. But Casey was relentless. 

“It’s fate.” the young human had insisted as they made their way to the dojo the following morning, “And frankly, shouldn’t we start making friends here?” he’s said with a grin.

Raphael had to give him due credit for effort.

“ _ Start _ making friends? What am I? Chopped liver?” Mikey’s voice penetrated the barrier between them, followed quickly by his face as he clamped a hand on each of their shoulders, and pulled his lower lip into a pout. Unlike Donatello, Mikey had taken to Casey quite easily. It was unsurprising that Michelangelo would appreciate Casey’s candor and aloof attitude. For this, Raphael was grateful. 

Casey laughed audibly.

“Come on, you can’t possibly take it the wrong way if I prefer the lady’s company to yours.” Thankfully, the woman in question had been absent from the dojo and not privy to the far-too-loud conversation between the two. Raphael had been quick to put distance between himself and the exchange. Donatello had raised a brow upon realizing what they were discussing, but said nothing to it. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised that the spot beside Donatello, which Leonardo normally occupied, was now vacant. But he was. This would still take some getting use to.

“Who would like to start us off?” Lord Splinter had asked the room. Normally, the Hamato brothers were quick to jump to the mat, vying to go first. Raphael held his feet though. He was, admittedly, not eager to hear Donatello voice his praise of Leonardo’s improvements. 

Instead, Karai had volunteered. She was a skilled kunoichi, and the Tang were as impressed as the Hamato had been.

“The epitome of control and precision.” Donatello had said, and he seemed to have meant it. If he held any ill will toward the young woman, he made to indication of it. Leonardo followed her. 

“Flawless. Every movement was exact, in perfect rhythm.” Donatello told him. 

_ Flawless _ , Raphael had thought. As expected. Raphael thought to grab his sai, and to get this over with, however, Donatello had excitedly turned to his younger brother and encouragingly ushered him to step forward. 

And Raphael quickly understood why. In the past, Lord Michelangelo had always been… a little underpar. He was a bit too pudgy. A bit too passive. He did not take great care in his faults, nor his strengths. He simply performed, and whether or not it was truly his best efforts, was uncertain. 

That was no longer the case, it seemed. 

Mikey was superb. He was fast,  _ so very fast _ , and flexible. His moves were unorthodox, yet still strangely meticulous. During his entire performance, Donatello watched, beaming with pride.

Donatello had always loved seeing his younger brother succeed, even in the simplest of forms. Raphael remembered the first time they’d had a meal crafted by him. Donatello had gone into great detail over the amount of time and effort Mikey had put into it, and the ingenuity and patience it took. 

It lifted Raphael’s spirits enough to go to the mat next. He was impressive, he knew that. But he’d long been impressive, and long been overshadowed. 

It was strange. He’d wanted attention from Donatello for so long. Now the prospect of having it left him unnerved. 

Or worse, that Donatello would still not paid him any mind.

That wasn’t the case though. Far from it, in fact.

“Every bit as fierce... Spectacularly strong... An unrelenting force... Strikingly impressive-”

Raphael had been evaluated many times before, but words like this had never struck him so greatly. He felt a swelling in his chest, and he found himself unable to even express gratitude.

His father had spared him. 

As Donatello took the mat, Raphael felt a strong urge to reciprocate the gesture. To tell him all the things he did well. Did great. But Raphael was not one for words. A thing made obvious last night at dinner. His remark on Donatello’s eloquent form of speech was something he wished to bury away. When he’d told Casey what he’d said, the young man had laughed out loud.

“You might as well have said ‘ _ Your words are good’ _ ” He’d told him. 

However, it was a dilemma that would be addressed another day, as Donatello’s council had burst in the room with urgent news. 

 

\-------------------------------

 

Raphael had always thought the court was Donatello’s element. He spoke so easily and fluidly with nobles, and was able to make conversation on any topic. He understood the politics and was deft in highborn courtesies. 

But Raphael was wrong.

Donatello had always tinkered as a child. Whenever Michelangelo broke something, he immediately took it to his older brother to mend. The young lord would often have toys and gadgets he’d built himself. In the past several years, Raphael heard often of Donatello’s creations. Transportation units, weaponry, and now…

It was massive, this thing he’d built. Raphael couldn’t put it into words. The Tang lord’s council seemed to understand how it worked, though it certainly alluded his younger brother. 

Donatello’s team had a mode of transport, as well as placement, using a system of cranes and pulleys. Raphael had been around heavy machinery plenty. He had manned his share of tanks and carriers, and been a part of assembly lines. But those had all been basic, and crudely done. This was an entirely different experience. Pieces fit together fluidly, piling on like a puzzle you cannot see until it is complete.

More impressive though, was the man with the plan. The confidence Donatello often displayed in court was nothing in comparison to his unbridled equanimity here, as he coordinated this endeavor. Despite the demanding situation, he never doubted himself, the instructions he gave, or shied away from a question. 

And when a problem presented itself, he worked around it.

“Lower me down manually. It shouldn’t take me long.” Donatello assured his younger brother as he attached heavy amounts of gear to his torso. 

It was Raphael’s first time seeing him without his traditional robes. The young lord had only ever been entirely formal in the Hamato’s presence for as long as they’d known him. He shed his finer garments, and tied the remaining off with tasuki cord as though it were a working tobi. For years, Donatello had been the tall, skinny, lanky lord whose body seemed awkwardly unfit. 

Now, much like his younger brother, he’d come into his own. Filled out, in his own way, with defined, sleek muscles. Raphael supposed it was unsurprising how toned he was, seeing the sheer weight of his equipment and tools. 

Nonetheless, Raphael was surprised, and a sense of propriety he didn’t know he had bid him to avert his eyes. 

Donatello quickly descended the ledge of the aqueduct and set to work. Michelangelo explained what his brother was doing, as best he could, while Raphael and Leonardo peeked curiously over the edge. 

He worked fast and diligently, twirling tools between his fingers with ease. The flow of water had been temporarily dammed up so that the device could be installed. Still, water leaked through the barricade like a sprinkler. 

It didn’t seem to bother the young lord though. He worked through it in what appeared to be an effortless manner. Raphael didn’t know if that glow he gave off was the sun shining off the beads of water on his skin, or if it was the radiant, confident energy he imbued. 

The sudden snap from above them startled Raphael so much, his feet left the ground. People began scrambling, including Mikey and Lord Donatello’s council, to steady the crane whose cord had split loose. Raphael cast a glance toward the genius lord, and found the young man straining to hold his device steady.  

Raphael reactively headed toward him. As his brother and their councils raced toward the crane, he leapt from the riverside to the platform, dashing up and taking hold of the device. With a grunt he lifted it back into place.

Donatello snapped to attention almost immediately, not hesitating for a moment to press his body into Raphael’s to get to the nooks and crannies he needed to secure the filter. 

Raphael held his breath, and reprimanded himself. Now was not the time to notice how cool and refreshing Lord Donatello’s wet skin felt. 

The Tang lord was done in no time, and from their vantage point, it seemed the crane had been successfully secured. The young man sighed heavily, a prominent ‘ _ whew _ ’ leaving his lips, and he ran his palm over his forehead. He backed up to look at his creation, hands planted firmly on his hips and his shoulders relaxing. 

That glow was natural, Raphael decided. 

Conventionally, Raphael’s older brother was a good-looking man. Sharp lines and symmetrical features. Leonardo was classically attractive. Michelangelo on the other hand, was unconventional. All bright eyes and a lopsided grins. He had the widest nose out of the four of them, and the plumpest lips. And he was speckled in freckles. He was boyishly charming. 

But Lord Donatello….

Donatello was fucking ethereal at times, with his cool-toned skin and fluid form. He bore the same speckled discoloration as his younger brother, though it was significantly less apparent. Only noticeable on his cheeks and shoulders when in close proximity. Like soft, intimate secrets.  

His lips were pouty. Perhaps from years of saying “Oh!” anytime he had an idea. Which was often. 

And though his eyes were soft and welcoming, he was in no way light or delicate. His hands told that story best. Where Leonardo’s fingers were rough from holding the hilt of a sword, and Raphael’s knuckles were callous and misshapen from continuous abuse, the entirety of Donatello’s were weathered. 

Who knew it was possible for such a courtly man to be so hands-on. 

Donatello was surprisingly contradictory. A walking anomaly. 

A stunning anomaly. 

In that moment, Raphael wanted desperately to find the right thing to say. 

“And here you were worried about following my performance. Now **that** was impressive.”

He may not have been as eloquent as Lord Donatello, but the man gifted him a smile, nonetheless. A terribly endearing smile.

“Thank you.” he said, his breath slightly labored, “For that, and for your assistance. Your aide came just in time”. Raphael felt heat creep up his neck. 

“It’s what I’m good for.” he replied, and proceeded to put his biceps on display. An action he immediately regretted.  ‘ _ Spectacularly strong... Strikingly impressive _ ’. The words rang in his head and he suddenly felt far too brazen. 

Too clearly flirtatious. 

Which was a very new feeling for him. 

So he immediately retreated, yelling out to his counsel for a line back up. 

However, upon arriving at the top, he was met with Casey’s raised eyebrows, and mocking tone,

“How gallant of you.” 

\------------------------------------------------

Given their high social and military ranking, Leonardo and Raphael could often be difficult men to pin down. To them, it was as if something always needed to be done. Always a task to be completed, a meeting to attend. Leonardo had speeches to give and bureaucrats to meet. Raphael had recruits to assess, and what Master Splinter called:  _ ‘one on ones’ _ with area locals. 

Raphael had thought he and his brother to be plenty busy.

Donatello, however, was in far higher demand. Like Raphael and Leonardo, he and Michelangelo were court representatives for their clans. This meant long hours of city council meetings and proceedings, creating relationships and working with other clans for the betterment of your own. It also meant spending a lot of time within your own clan, addressing their cares and concerns before the powers that be. More often than not, Raphael and Leonardo split the duties. Though admittedly, Leonardo spent more time than Raphael in court. 

But on top of those duties, Donatello was also the Director of Operations for the Tang Public Embetterment Department. He was constantly meeting with local officials for the many advancement projects he had in the works. The Water Filtration System being one of them 

And when he wasn’t busy being a public servant, he was in his work space. 

“Creating a better world.” Mikey would say.

Raphael believed him.

Donatello’s work load was daunting, even to Leonardo. 

He’d been going non-stop for several days following the breach in the canine district. And therefore, absent for any downtime they were rarely spared. Michelangelo had taken it upon himself to begin rearranging the events of the wedding celebration. Raphael didn’t quite understand why that was necessary, but the young Tang lord insisted it was, and began dragging him and Casey throughout the keep to review options. 

The good news was: That involved a lot of food sampling. Michelangelo wanted to serve something both Raphael and Donatello would thoroughly enjoy. It was overkill, if Raphael were being honest, but also quite kind of Michelangelo. 

The bad news was: The young lord wanted to move the ceremony. So that meant choosing a location for a new one. Michelangelo hauled them into room after room, space after space, to stand there and evaluate the it. 

“This is torture.” Casey had regarded under his breath as the Tang lord surveyed this surroundings, hand on his chin and mumbling things under his breath. 

Raphael shared the sentiment, but said nothing to it. Mikey was beckoning them to follow him.  Raphael meant to do as instructed, but found his feet heavier than before and he quickly fell behind his company. 

_ “Don agreed with me.”  _ Mikey had told them, _ “We have to move the ceremony.”  _

Despite his aversions to this, that was all the convincing Raphael needed. Still, it would have been better if there Lord Head himself had been present.

Maybe. Raphael still wasn’t certain how to act around him. This new, strange situation made him feel more out of his skin that he ever had before. But he’d, none-the-less, like to try. 

“He’s an awfully busy man, that is for certain.” 

His older brother’s voice startled him, and Raphael turned swiftly on his heels, eyes finding that Leonardo had manifested only feet away from him. Raphael scoffed as Leo eyed him with amusement. “You ought to be more aware of your surroundings.”

“You’re a creep.” Raphael retorted. Leonardo didn’t humor him with a rebuttal. 

“He seems to be growing into a prominent figure of his community more and more every year.” Leonardo said instead, returning to his previous topic. He stared out at Casey and Michelangelo, both of which seemed to be discussing table dressings rather animatedly. “Donatello is a fine example of a clan Lord Head.” He said with a sigh, then returned his gaze to Raphael, “You must show that you are also worthy of the title.”  

Raphael could feel a muscle near his eye twitch, and his fingers suddenly itched. He had half a mind to swing at his dear older brother.

But he didn’t.

“I know,” he muttered instead through a stiffly set jaw. His older brother sighed heavily, eyes scanning over his face.

“How are you holding up?” he asked. Raphael swallowed thickly, a small bit of tension leaving his muscles. Still, he didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t certain how. Instead, he offered up a shrug. 

“It’s….strange.” He decided on. His brother gave a nod, his brow bones knitting together. Almost worried. Then, he inhaled sharply and strained his back. 

“I’m sorry.” Leonardo said, “But thank you.” 

Raphael wasn’t sure what to do with that. He was still angry with Leonardo. Angry for himself, for Donatello. But that was wavering. 

“Instead of apologizing, help this kid make a decision. I can’t look at one more room.”

Leonardo laughed.

 

\----

 

Unfortunately Leonardo wasn’t able to assist, despite his best efforts. Michelangelo had side-eyed his suggestions and said,  _ “I’m not disagreeing, but this isn’t your wedding.” _

Mikey was apparently still a bit sore. Thankfully, it was only directed at Leonardo. 

However, that night at dinner, the younger Tang brother’s mood seemed to shift. While he didn’t seem outwardly angry toward anyone, he was quieter than normal, and a bit curt.

“You alright?” Raphael had asked in a hushed voice. Normally, the two second sons sat across from one another. He was still getting use to being adjacent from Mikey.

A small thing to be bothered by, but it threw him off balance, nonetheless. 

Mikey’s head snapped up, and he stared at Raphael. For a moment, the boy worried his lips together, his brow bones drawn hard in thought. Then he shook his head.

“Just a lot on my mind.” He excused. Raphael wasn’t convinced. 

But he didn’t press it, because surprisingly, Donatello managed to join them for dinner, though he was late. He came in, bowing to different lords as he made his way to the table. Many stopped him along the way, to discuss the Water Filtration Initiative, and its success. It took a good 10 minutes for him to cross 60 feet. 

He sat down with a small, exasperated sigh.

“Good evening everyone.” He greeted politely, then nodded to Raphael. Mikey, however, gave his brother a hard once-over.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asked, nothing short of accusing. Don returned the stare, undeterred. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” he said with finality. From down the table, April cleared her throat,

“Yes, well, let us not be racing toward that,” she said with little pity, “I’ll be certain to kick him out of the workroom before too late.” Michelangelo seemed pleased with her promise. Even more pleasing to him though, was the announcement of dessert. 

“Ready for this?” He asked as servers began to come around, one standing at the head of every table, a chocolate dish in one hand, a match in the other. 

“Ah, this is what these are for?” April inquired, indicating the jars on each table, filled with matches. Michelangelo reached out to forcibly turn her back toward the server. 

“Watch.” He insisted. The server then proceeded to flambée the dessert. Brilliant streaks of red momentarily licked the chocolatey round surface before it quickly melted. Within seconds the flames diminished, revealing the sweet beneath, now coated in chocolate. 

“Enchanting.” April praised as the dining halls erupted in Ohs and Ahs, to which Mikey preened. 

As the servers began placing down dishes, across from him, Donatello softly cleared his throat. When Raphael met his gaze, the young Tang lord smiled, though it was a bit tight.  

“Actually, my lord,” he said in a quiet voice, “I thought we might have a few words before the night is over?” 

Raphael nodded, leaning forward to hear him better. Donatello hesitated though. “In private.” he added, his gaze averting to the terrance beyond the dining hall. 

Raphael could feel the eyes on him as he and the oldest Tang lord left the table, but he kept his own trained on Donatello. It was the only thing he could focus on beyond the turning of his stomach. Donatello was in one of his fancy yukata again. Though, Raphael imagined it was customized to fit Donatello’s workroom needs, blending the robe’s traditional silhouette with a minimalist style  that gives the body much more room for movement. 

Fitting, Raphael thought, for a young man taking leadership in a modernizing world. 

The air around them was quiet now, and they were caught between the humming of life inside the Keep, and the soft buzz of nature before them. The pond here was impressive on a dark night, reflecting little in its shallow depths. Everything around them felt still.

And yet Raphael’s heart hammered in his chest. He was eager and anxious at the same time. His thoughts returned to their training session many days ago, reminding him of his desire to verbalize his appreciation of Donatello’s skills. 

_ Do that now _ , his mind told him. It was a good time. They were alone, and it was quiet. The darkness would shield the blush on his cheeks. And if he sounded like a fool, well…  It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, and probably not the last. Best to let the Tang lord decide now if it was a thing he could live with. 

 

…

 

Something flickered in his mind then. A fantasy, of sorts, brief as it was, of his smart and skilled husband, laughing fondly at his foolhardiness. 

It left his skin warm and his stomach fluttering. 

 

...

 

When Raphael looked at Donatello, the man was gazing intently at the water. Perhaps it was just shadows, but his eyes were so still and so focused, they seem to reflect the depths of the pond. Unwavering pools of black. He was lit softly, one side by the moon, and the other by the lights of the keep. It split him in half, like a trick of the eye. 

Donatello inhaled sharply, and turned to meet Raphael’s eyes. 

“I wanted to offer apologies for my recent absence.” He said. 

The man seemed a bit on edge, Raphael noticed. The corners of his brow bones dipped ever-so slightly. Like he was worried. Raphael shrugged, 

“Duty calls.” He assured him. True, Donatello seemed to carry more responsibilities on his shoulders than Raphael and his brother, but Raph most certainly could sympathize. 

“Duty is actually, in part, what I wanted to discuss with you.” Donatello told him. Raphael turned to face him fully, wanting to let him know he had his full attention. But the lord took pause, still holding that subtle concern at his brow. 

“What of it?” Raphael prompted. 

The Tang lord’s body language changed then. His hands moved erratically and he began to pace as he spoke, yammering on about duty and the success of their clans. 

“I thought it might be…” Lord Donatello paused then, swallowing thickly “… wise to put something out on the table.” Raphael could feel the tension dripping off of him. It was unsettling, seeing him quiet so shook up. Donatello always seemed one step ahead. “I… I wanted you to be aware that I am receptive to the idea of this being an… open relationship.” 

…

Raphael’s brain was suddenly as quiet as the pond. 

“If I dare to be so frank,” The lord continued, “I would much rather be aware of any other… suitors, and be able to prepare for the situation, than to find out by other means.” 

Heat swelled in Raphael’s chest. _Who then_ , he wondered. Was this because Lord Donatello still pined for Raphael’s older brother? Or did the young lord simply not want to be tied down. And why should he, really? He wasted years on Leonardo. Why sign away even more to Raphael? 

“Would it not be healthier, to have a certain level of understanding?” Lord Donatello worried his lips together, staring intently at Raphael, 

_ No _ , Raphael thought.  _ Not really. _ He could be a good husband. He was sure of it. He would listen, and learn, and do his damnedest to run this clan, to be a leader. To make Donatello proud, and happy. 

He wanted a chance to do that. 

“I would rather be….I would rather be honest with you.” 

But Leonardo had already asked so much of Donatello. Master Splinter had already asked so much. The Hamato clan had asked  _ too much _ . 

Raphael didn’t want to be added to that list.

“If that is what you want.”  He didn’t trust his voice. He needed to leave. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated! <3


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